The curse of Hekate
by AzraelLilith
Summary: Summary inside: When the young undercover agent John Rider infiltrated Scorpia, he met an innocent child in the clutches of a ruthless organisation who will change everything he thought he knew for certain... A new view at Yassen G. and John R. no slash!
1. Chapter 1

**Forget everything you know about Yassen Gregorovich's past.**

**When the young undercover agent John Rider infiltrated Scorpia, he met an innocent child in the clutches of a ruthless organisation who will change everything he thought he knew for certain. How will the patriotic man cope with the task to train the boy to be an assassin? What will he do, when he realises the incredible, but lethal talent of the child, when his firm beliefs and loyalties change? When he is caught between the guilt of a choice made in the past, his mission and the fascination for the dark he should fight? (NO SLASH)**

**Read and find out!**

**This story is AU, I'll change almost everything about Yassen's past and I'll mess with the timeline... Just be prepared! ;-) Anyway, this is my first published fan fiction story, I'm still trying to find out how everything works.**

**Special thanks to my beta C.J.0608 who corrected my terrible grammar (and a lot of other mistakes ;-) )... **

**Rated T, there will be torture and violence later...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, although I dream of it... ;-) The characters belong to Anthony Horowitz, I just changed the circumstances in this FAN FICTION! :P**

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><p>The first time John Rider saw the child he was just curious and slightly worried.<p>

His mission as a double agent inside Scorpia had just begun, and so he didn't have a very high ranking in the hierarchy at the time. It had just been a few weeks since the day of his feigned loss of control, which resulted in his imprisonment and acceptance into the terrorist organisation Scorpia.

Nobody could suspect that everything was just a deception, and that in reality he worked for MI6 in order to bring down Scorpia. Not even his own wife knew.

It was tough, but John knew about the importance of his mission.

He had always laughed about the people calling themselves patriots, but deep in his heart he was a true patriot himself...like Alan Blunt, the director of MI6, had said, before he explained the circumstances of his current mission: John was young, idealistic and replete with the need to move something.

So he hid his true personality and slipped into the persona of an angry man willing to take revenge on his country and the world itself because of the "wrong they had done to him".

But even the cold blooded killer he was supposed to be would be surprised to see a child inside the secret Scorpia base. With that, John allowed himself to examine the child further.

He supposed the child might've been between thirteen or fifteen years old. He was a fair-haired boy with pale blue eyes shining with disturbing intelligence, which seemed to penetrate through John's careful constructed facade.

John could see that he would develop into a true heartbreaker someday. Distinctly chiselled lips and almost feminine eyelashes upon even facial features.

The boy's slender body disclosed that he had to have done sports since a very young age, although he couldn't have been outside very often. His skin was far too pale for this.

The mysterious boy who was far too young to have anything to do with Scorpia smiled endearingly.

It was obvious that John's curiosity amused him. Somehow this behaviour reassured John.

Maybe the boy was just the son of a board member, he thought. At least he didn't seem to be upset about his stay here.

Then he faced the two companions of the boy who could be either bodyguards or prison guards.

But before he could solve the mystery about the boy, the three figures disappeared into a building which John was prohibited to enter. He wanted to ask someone about the child, but in order to maintain his cover he suppressed this impulse and continued to do his job.

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><p>The second time he met the boy was rather unpleasant.<p>

It had been eleven months since he had last seen him and, although it was kind of awful to admit, he hadn't thought about the mysterious child often.

He'd been busy making the board members trust him. He was astoundingly successful, especially with a woman named Julia Rothman. Well, maybe it wasn't that astounding, considering the 56 immaculate assassinations, which should have been difficult.

He however completed them with ease– most of them gruesome people whom he killed still with guilt hidden in his heart, although he knew about their crimes. The few innocent deaths were faked with the help of MI6.

Now, he was a full-fledged member of Scorpia and, because of his incredible skills, the board allowed him to be an instructor at Malagosto- an island in the Mediterranean Sea where the secret training facility of Scorpia sat.

Rothman would do almost everything he asked of her. The woman and her obvious obsession with him made him on edge, but he knew his responsibilities and therefore he did his best to make use of this circumstance.

Although he would have to do an assassination that needed his "expertise" every now and then, he would be able to avoid the murders, which continued to set off guilt and risk endangering his cover, his mission and his life due to the feigned assassinations.

Because of this, he was thrilled when Rothman told him the news about his changed job in her office.

Rather unpleasant were the circumstances of his "transfer".

"John," began the woman with a seductive smile, "there is someone I want you to accompany on your journey to Malagosto. Someone whom _we _have a specific interest in."

John swallowed inside while maintaining his blank facade. He knew that she was speaking about the board and whoever it was he would have to do everything to guarantee that he fulfilled the wishes of the board.

He had to keep his position and failure wasn't tolerated. Not even from him.

"Who is it, and what are my orders?" John asked, every bit the obedient soldier.

"I wouldn't call them orders, John," said a voice, which always managed to send a chill down his spine.

Dr. Three smiled while emerging from the shadows. The man was a walking contradiction. His friendly and fatherly presence lured you to trust him and camouflaged his malevolent heart.

"It's just a tiny little request among friends, isn't that right Julia?"

The woman ignored him completely. "There is a boy in our dungeon who aroused the interests of our Dr. Three here. I don't know the full story and he doesn't want to tell me," she sent him a look full of venom, "but I believe we have this child in custody in order to persuade his father to secure our interests."

She leaned forward and laid her hand on John's shoulder. He couldn't stop his body from shuddering under the touch of this black widow who loved to play with him.

The presence of Dr. Three also disturbed him. The torture expert was a man John avoided at all cost. Whoever it was that the doctor had interest in was to be pitied. Shortly the memory of a fair-haired boy flashed through his mind, he had to hope that it wasn't him.

"However the child has been in Dr. Three's custody for almost ten months and our friendly little doctor thinks that it would be a waste to kill the boy as we would normally do since his father wasn't very cooperative, but..."

"But," interrupted the creepy man apparently unaware of the slow death Rothman's eyes were promising him, "_I _think that the qualities I noticed in him in our little _sessions _promise him a great future in our company. And well, if he is indeed a failure, my students are always in need for someone to practice with."

"Well, John," she fluttered her eyelashes, "you're to take him with you to Malagosto and to supervise his training personally until we see if it's wise to grant Dr. Three's _proposal_. At the moment the boy is in an isolation cell in the basement. Retrieve him and leave for Malagosto as soon as possible. I'll visit you there soon!"

Rothman's fingers stroked his chest and John knew he was dismissed. He just wanted to leave the room, when the mellow voice of Dr. Three called him back. "I will take you to Yassen personally."

"His name is Yassen?" John asked his voice just slightly curious. His counterpart smiled and nodded. "Yes. Yassen Alexandrovich Kasakow. I guess it would be helpful to know more about him in order to _handle_ him properly!"

Inwardly the thoughts circled in his head and brought feelings of shame and guilt with them, whereas outwardly he was walking calmly beside the incarnation of evil.

If Yassen was the boy he had seen back then...then whatever happened to the child was his fault.

Despite his mission he should have done everything to help the child or at least he should have tried. But he hadn't even tried to find out who the boy was.

He could have saved him from the insufferable torture he undoubtedly had to endure through Dr. Three.

In the past he had missed a chance to help him, but he swore to himself not to let them hurt the boy further.

Whatever Three had in mind with him, John would do everything humanly possible to prevent that from happening. A child had nothing to do in this terrible and brutal world John chose to live in.

No, it couldn't be him. It just couldn't be the fair-haired boy with the deep blue eyes.

John was so caught up by his thought, that he almost missed Three's next words.

"Yassen is the only child of Alexander Nikolayevich Kasakow, a successful entrepreneur and head of a major mafia family branch. Kasakow tutored his son through hand chosen teachers in languages, martial arts…everything he thought necessary for him to be the perfect son and maybe future leader of his criminal empire. Scorpia has a specific interest in his business and his son seemed to be a good negotiating basis. Kasakow however said that he refused to be blackmailed by anyone, although he got videos of some _meetings_ between his son and me. As Julia said the usual procedure would be to kill the boy, send him back to his father, and try other methods of persuasion, because you don't say "no" to Scorpia. Well, like you already know, I think that his death would be a waste of talent. Train him and you'll see what I mean."

Three stopped in front of an iron door which was opened by a grim looking man whose appearance screamed mercenary.

At the sight of Three he stepped back and let them enter the dark depth of Three's torture chambers.

John ignored the agonizing screams resounding from the cold walls. He said himself that his mission was important, that he would help them this way, that he couldn't do anything right now.

But a small voice in his heart reminded him about his meeting with the boy, when he had thought exactly the same and had done nothing and how much he regretted that now.

Focus, John! Focus! He said himself and hid his emotional turmoil deep inside his heart. The dark and hopeless atmosphere of this jail was enough to bear. Everything was cold. The dazzling light illuminated tiled corridors with as much life and joy as a mortuary.

"There it is", Three said finally and pointed at a cellular door at the end of this corridor.

Three tossed him a high-security key and at his sign John opened the door with it. The sight inside the cell froze the blood in his veins.

In the cell which measured just four feet was the fragile looking boy John had desperately hoped to be safe.

His arms were chained to the wall, just high enough so that his feet could barely touch the floor.

He didn't look heavy, instead the pale and bloodied body John could see through his tattered clothes looked rather malnourished. But the weight his arms had to carry this way had to be quite painful.

Although considering the fantasy of the torture expert behind him, that seemed to be one of the more bearable pains.

The boy looked up when they entered and John shuddered at the empty look in his eyes.

"Hello, Yassen. How are you today?" asked Three cheerfully, and then got closer to the child to chuck his cheek friendly, just like the caring father he looked like.

Yassen's flinching was barely noticeable at the touch of his tormentor, but other than that he didn't show any reaction at all.

"What have I taught you? I said that you were supposed to greet me and my guests politely. And Hunter here is a very important guest."

His words sounded casually, but John sensed the hidden threat. Silence followed his words as if Yassen wanted to stress every bond he could, then he opened his mouth and said: "A wonderful morning Dr. Three. I'm fine. How are you? And it's a real pleasure to meet you, Hunter. May I introduce myself, my name is Yassen Kasakow and I have the immeasurable pleasure to enjoy the hospitality of Dr. Three. I apologize that I'm currently not able to shake your hand properly, but I kind of stuck here!"

John was shocked for a moment. Although nothing in his voice or his face betrayed any emotion, there was irony and sarcasm in his words which were sure to earn him several punishments.

But Dr. Three laughed and only slapped Yassen on the shoulder.

Seemingly unaware of the pain this caused the injured boy he said: "I'm really going to miss our conversations."

He eyed Yassen sharply and neither he nor John missed the tiny wince of the boy. "Yes, you haven't misheard anything. You are going to leave this compound. John here will take you to your new home. But don't be sad, we'll have regular appointments." Yassen's expression remained unreadable.

"Anyway," Three continued, "John will find out, if you can be of use to us. I think we talked about this possibility. You will follow his orders as if they were mine. John is allowed to do everything necessary. Put in your all, Yassen. I'll be informed about everything, every mistake you make, every misbehaviour. Believe me, if you disappoint me, you'll long for the past months. Now I'm entrusting my little friend to you, John. Help him to make his appearance socially acceptable. See you soon, the both of you." With these words Three left the tortured child and the undercover agent alone.

John felt awkward, when he removed the chains from Yassen, and supported him, when his weakened legs couldn't carry his weight.

He dragged his new student through the corridors and finally to the surface. When they stepped out in the sunshine, he felt the boy trembling.

"How long has it been since you've seen the sunlight?" John asked harshly to hide his compassion for Yassen.

"I don't know," answered a tired voice, which had nothing in common with the emotionless voice back in the cell. John felt how close Yassen was from a complete breakdown.

His carefully constructed façade was beginning to collapse fast. He had to get the boy to his temporary home in which John lived every time he had to stay here.

The five-minute way to his flat seemed to be endless. When Yassen could finally collapse on his bed, John was more than relieved.

But he couldn't let him rest yet. At first he had to look at Yassen's injuries. He tried to be friendly without blowing his cover: "Get up, Yassen. We have to check your wounds!"

Yassen looked at him wearingly, before he quietly sat up and began to take off the remnants of his clothes. John was surprised about his complete lack of shame, but then he thought about the past experiences of Yassen which were deeply dug in his flesh.

Quietly cursing he led the bloodstained boy into the bathroom and helped him wash his weak body.

The scars which appeared were horrible. Yassen's whole body was littered with whip marks, burns, knife scars…John didn't want to think about what caused most of them.

He had been a soldier, before MI6 recruited him and he had seen terrible things, but torture marks on this child were the most horrible thing he had ever seen. And Dr. Three seemed to have done everything to avoid long term injuries.

"Have you other injuries I should know about? I'm no doctor, but I can get one…"

Yassen shook his head. "There were some broken bones, but I have the best medical treatments, although it doesn't look like this right now. After all the doctor didn't want to lose his toy."

He laughed humourlessly. Thereby he never let his guard down, like he had expected John to hit him.

His whole behaviour confused the spy. He had thought that Yassen would cry or weep, but he just closed his eyes a few minutes and collected himself.

After he had opened them again, there was nothing that pointed to his prior weakness.

He didn't know how to treat Yassen. Nothing in his training had prepared him for a situation like this.

"Put these clothes on." He said rather cold, after he had bandaged the most gruesome wounds. He wasn't surprised how perfectly the jeans, T-Shirt, sweatshirt, even the shoes fitted.

Three had enough time to find out Yassen's size after all.

Fully aware of Yassen's look, which didn't seem to leave him even for a second, he changed himself and grabbed his already packed bag containing all he would need.

It was kind of scary how fast everything changed. He however had to do his job like always.

"Well, Yassen. I have been given the task of training you. I'm not cruel, but I won't be nice either. And I definitely don't tolerate failure or resistance. If you try to escape, there will be a hunt for you whose magnitude you cannot even image. In the end you'll be back in Three's torture chambers, I don't believe that you want this to happen. Is that clear?"

The boy nodded slowly. Before John could continue there was a knock on the door and then a small man with a face like a bulldog looked in.

"I was told to bring this to you, Hunter," he said and showed him a syringe.

Then he nodded towards Yassen and explained: "Dr. Three doesn't want to take chances. He'll be unconscious during the whole transfer to Malagosto. In case of problems, this is your son who has to recover from a long illness. These documents will prove everything!" He handed John some papers, which he didn't even take heed of.

Then Yassen, who seemed to know this arrangement, pulled his sleeve up stoically and stretched out his arm.

He let Three's underling inject him the soporific without batting an eyelash, but John could see the tension in his body.

He tried to fight the drug induced sleep, but it wasn't long until Yassen slumped down and fell asleep.

He looked rather young and innocent without the ever-present tension of his body and the blank mask on his face. Suddenly John wished that he would never wake up from this peaceful slumber. Whatever the future will bring won't be pleasant for the both of them.

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><p><strong>Please tell me what you think. There is this mysterious thing called review. ;-)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I apologize for the long time it took me to update this... I've lots of excuses, but I guess instead of listing them here I'm better going to write the next chapter... ;-)**

**And thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate your support, guys! Initially I wanted to respond to each review individually, but... well there are the excuses again... ;-)**

**Special thanks to my beta C.J.0608 again, who helps me incredible fast with every problem I face...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, although I dream of it... ;-) The characters belong to Anthony Horowitz, I just changed the circumstances in this FAN FICTION! :P**

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><p>"Get up!" John's voice was as pitiless as his eyes, when he looked at the small figure collapsed on the ground.<p>

Yassen while breathing heavily tried to lever himself up with shaking legs. Six hours of severe muscle construction and endurance training had exhausted the boy beyond bearable.

"One more time!" ordered the teacher. He knew that Yassen had been close to breaking down completely for nearly two hours now. But something that John couldn't quite grasp was what made the boy keep going and obeying each and every time John told him to get up.

Maybe it was his fear of Dr. Three or merely stubbornness, but whatever it was, it helped Yassen steady his self and beginning to scale the rock face, which he already climbed up eight times in the last hour.

His movements were slow but still precise. He kept surprising the undercover agent like he had done the past weeks, but even this incredible child had limits.

John saw him struggle against his exhaustion, but in the end he didn't have the strength anymore to hold on the rocks. He dangled on the rope with which John safeguarded him.

Originally this exercise was supposed to be free climbing, but John didn't trust Yassen's strength yet.

It would have amused him to see anger and frustration about his weakness on Yassen's usual blank face, if he hadn't known about the consequences of this training. He couldn't forget that everything he taught this child was supposed to help him kill people, and although his orders were clear to do everything necessary to secure his cover, it just felt wrong to drill this already broken child...

John helped Yassen abseil, and then sent him to eat something. While watching the still angry Yassen walking down the path, which led to the main building on the island, John lost himself in his thoughts.

It had been almost four weeks since his arrival on the island and the taking up of his new job.

In contrast to the other instructors who were specialized in the one area to teach small groups of the soon-to-be assassins, John was ordered to perfect the skills of each student individually. Never more than fifteen students stayed at the island. At the moment there were eight men and a set of twin sisters addition to Yassen who he was supposed to train.

The boy himself was the exception and got himself more than a few curious looks.

During the first month of his training he was supposed to regain the strength he had lost thanks to his stay in Three's cell. His muscles had been weak, but John had drilled him mercilessly. At first he only had to run a distance, which was increasingly extended. Six hours per day he made the boy run, swim, and climb, do press-ups...The rest of the day John got to know the other students and developed and evaluated their skills while Yassen supposedly ate and slept.

Despite the care of John, he was still way too thin. And although he didn't say anything, John knew that Yassen wasn't able to sleep well. Months of sleep deprivation had left its mark on him.

Despite this, he was doing great. Though nothing in John's eyes betrayed his appreciation. Today was the last day of Yassen's "gentle" built-up training, before he would visit the classes with the other students.

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><p>The bright November sun shone into a strange office and breathed life in the cold atmosphere. Its gentle rays stroke about the absolute greyness of this room and its lone occupant.<p>

The grey man sitting behind a grey desk seemed to be ageless.

He was somewhat…blunt. Only an ordinary man, common built without anything striking except the fire in his eyes. They betrayed his otherwise perfect mask of blankness and showed that there was indeed a human beneath this mask. A human with strong beliefs and a firm will. It was almost ironic that this man told John Rider about hidden patriotism. He himself would do everything for his country and its people.

"Alan," called the sharp voice of his superior, the current head of MI6 trough the open connecting door between their offices, "I would like to speak with you!"

Frederick Abberline loved operating in the dark and hid behind the identity of his vice. Only a few people knew that Alan Blunt wasn't the head of MI6 and Frederick wanted to leave it this way to ensure the safety of his beloved family. Sometimes he felt guilty for using Alan like this, but the young man knew about the risks of his apparent position and was willing to take them.

"How is Agent Rider doing?" he asked, after Alan came into his office and closed the door behind him. An always active jamming transmitter prevented the bugging of this office like the soundproof walls and doors kept eavesdroppers away.

"His last report was promising," Alan reported respectfully. "I assure you sir, he is the perfect man for this job."

"Won't he have problems with his conscience? I mean he has killed people and now he'll teach others how to do so!" inquired Abberline curiously.

His handsome face was littered with wrinkles, which showed his emotionality. Even now while trying to sustain his businesslike façade, you couldn't help but notice his laughter-lines.

In secret Alan despised this man whom he thought absolutely incompetent.

Another reason why Abberline was glad that Blunt played the role of the head. Because even Abberline himself knew that he wasn't the perfect man for this job. It was only a mixture of luck and good connections, which brought him to this position.

Something, which Blunt would end, _when _he was finally the real head. And this was only a matter of time, he had made sure of that.

The vice often made decisions without the knowledge of his boss, and he intended to keep it this way for the well being of this country.

But nothing on his face betrayed Alan's thoughts and the things he wanted to keep for himself. His exterior only showed the keenly second-in-line.

"Agent Rider has very strong beliefs. He doesn't want to do these things, but he knows about the importance of his mission. We have to have a mole in the highest ranks of Scorpia. Failure is unacceptable!"

"You're right, Alan. I trust your judgement. Please inform me about the development of this assignment," said the man who was supposed to be the mightiest man in the spy business.

'_But he is nothing but my unsuspecting puppet,_' thought the puppet master. He didn't enjoy this, but he was convinced of his own mission.

So "Thank you sir!" was all he answered while returning to his own office. He didn't say anything about his tormenting doubts that Rider's conscience could become indeed a great problem.

The man had to remain inside the terrorist organisation. Never had anybody managed to be so deep inside Scorpia, nobody had ever managed to deceive Scorpia like this at all. John Rider was really an exceptional agent with unusual talents who didn't mind the means as long as innocents didn't suffer unnecessarily. Truthfully Alan was pleased that Rider killed some scum on his way.

Everything was fine, until this Russian child, this Yassen Alexandrovich Kasakow, surfaced.

Although Rider's report didn't say anything about the troubled mind of the agent, Alan could almost feel the insecurity of his agent regarding this _obstacle_.

Even Alan himself didn't know what to think.

A child assassin was just a strange idea...How could anyone think a child could be useful in this line of work? Although the absurdity of this idea would make nobody suspect anything... But that was just impossible that a child could survive in this world. It was determined to fail.

Nevertheless he ordered Rider to stick to Scorpia's orders and continue to play his role. Alan wasn't comfortable with the idea of not helping this boy escape Scorpia, but in his line of work you have to keep the greater good in mind. Alan just hoped that it would become easier as time drew on. And that Rider would prove to be the agent Alan believed him to be.

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><p><em>He laid at the stone ground of a cell forming a perfect cube which each side measured only about four feet. In his crouched stature, he covered almost the whole ground. <em>

_The boy suffered because of his tormented body as well as because of the oppressive confinement of his dark prison. The walls seemed to draw nearer, while the all-round darkness threatened to crush him. _

_His whole body was an absolute pain, torture lasting for days left deep scars in his body and soul. He knew that he couldn't hold on any longer. _

_But his experience told him that crying and screaming wouldn't help him at all. All his life he had had to learn to free himself from these unnecessary weaknesses, he just knew that this sadistic man who called himself Dr. Three was similar to his father in this regard. Weakness wasn't tolerated... _

_He could have cried in frustration about his own helplessness and silently vowed to himself that he would never allow himself to be this helpless again..._

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><p>The next day John climbed up the steps leading to the small apartment that Yassen lived in like every other Scorpia trainee on the island. He knocked shortly and entered Yassen's new home.<p>

Although it was just four a.m. and the past day had been exhausting for him, John knew that he was awake. He could see the returning nightmares in the dark shadows under his eyes.

"Good morning," he greeted while scrutinizing his charge. The boy looked rather small and somewhat lost in the pajamas Scorpia provided him with. But not even the bags under his eyes could hide the fact that he seemed to be more alive than ever since John had gotten to know him.

"You still haven't made yourself comfortable here." John commented with a meaningful look at the bare walls of the apartment.

The small kitchen and bathroom were well furnished, likewise the mixture consisting in the living room and bedroom. Only the best for Scorpia's elite killers.

But except for the standard furniture, like a hardly ever used bed or the dresser filled with the clothes Dr. Three bought him, there was nothing in the rooms.

John who had visited the flats of the other trainees for different reasons, couldn't help but compare their accommodations with Yassen's.

Although they knew about the unwritten rule of a successful assassin (someone who doesn't only murder his victim, but assassinates his target, survives and vanishes like a ghost into thin air) to never leave personal objects anywhere to be seen, even in their flats, his trained eye still found things such as books about their personal interests.

For example, in the rooms of the Indian twin sisters Nisha and Aruna, John saw various items, which showed a lot about their personal life they were supposed to hide.

Several tiny sculptures and pictures of the Hindu god Shiva who portrayed the destruction of the three aspects of the divine could have been meaningless, but his instinct allied with the subtle signs they showed while looking at them told him that they were religious Hindus, information that an enemy could take advantage of.

But despite every training he may have received, even the best assassin was only human. Some were really dehumanized and could hardly be count as human being, but in the core of their nature even they were humans, and as such, they were bound to make mistakes.

To prevent them from committing errors as much as possible was his task along with the other instructors. They should create flawless killing machines...

The fact that Yassen didn't allow himself the tiniest little bit of humanity and personality in his flat worried his mentor. It was bad enough what Dr. Three did to him and what would be done, but what Yassen did to himself was just terrible.

Nothing in his rooms was personal. He didn't have anything except the training utensils although his new status as a student on Malagosto and prospective Scorpia member would have guaranteed him the realization of every wish, which didn't affect his training or his stay with Scorpia like calling the cavalry would do.

To escape his own thoughts and the unpleasant silence, and while ignoring the tormented skin Yassen revealed in his attempt to dress himself quickly in his combat clothes, John began to speak.

"Are you nervous? Today you'll train with the others for the first time."

The involved didn't respond for a few minutes, then he replied suddenly, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" asked John surprised.

"Trying to be nice. I don't know if you just want to lure me to trust you or if you honestly want to help me." Yassen's face was unexpected expressive. He frowned and securitized John as if he tried to judge him.

"You're different. I don't know what it is, but every other person I've met in this organization is more or less easy to categorize. There are the sadistic that just love to cause pain, the materialistic that would do anything for money or power... different types of people, but every one of them fit into a category, except for you. What do you want?"

John was surprised about the direction of this conversation, maybe he was even worried about the astuteness of his charge.

"Well, it's the same for you. Maybe we'll tell each other one day what we really want but don't dare to admit!" was everything he said.

Yassen nodded slowly and with a look at his watch. He then said, surprisingly mocking, "I guess we don't want to keep our _lovely_ accomplices waiting!"

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><p><strong>Please tell me want you think... Reviews really encourage an author to write faster... ;-)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, again I can only apologize for the long gap between the chapters... I can't promise to never do it again, but I'll try!**

**Thanks to those who reviewed! I can't tell you guys how glad I'm about each one of your reviews! I hope you'll tell what you think about this chapter in another one! ;-) **

**Special thanks to my beta C.J.0608 again, who makes this story legible... If any one of you find mistakes that disturb you, just pm me and I'll fix it! ;-)  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, although I dream of it... ;-) The characters belong to Anthony Horowitz, I just changed the circumstances in this FAN FICTION! :P**

**Have I forgotten something? I don't think so... ;-) Now read and enjoy (and review)... :P  
><strong>

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><p><em>Yassen was bound to a chair in the middle of the gloomy cell. His whole body seemed to consist only of cuts, gruesome burn wounds<em>_, and colourful bruises shimmered from under dried blood. _

_The torture left his body as a battlefield and his mind lost in fog. His thoughts were only pain, sole imbued with words, which would be engraved into his heart forever. _

_The incarnation of his nightmares appeared to walk around him while talking at Yassen with his astonishing smooth and rousing voice: "Betrayal! Is there anybody whom you can trust a tiny little bit? Some who understands you and loves you for whom you are? Your own father tried your whole life to make you into someone you aren't. He only wanted an obedient little doll that does everything he wanted. And your mother. Has she ever protected you when your father beat you because you didn't match up to his expectations? Or when he encouraged your ruthless teachers to do everything necessary to break you... although you tried so hard to please your parents, you couldn't do anything right. They always told you how much of a failure you were." _

"_That's not true," whispered Yassen quietly. "You're lying!" _

"_I'm not lying, my dear boy, and you know it. You've always known. They betrayed you. Had anyone ever told you that you are in fact a real genius? I've seen your coursework. You speak four languages fluently and have limited language skills in at least two others. In every normal school your grades would have been exceptional. And you do as good in sports. You would have been popular in every school. You would have had friends!"_

_Dr. Three paused to let his words sink in. He was kind of surprised about the child's answer. Fighting against his almost unbearable pain Yassen looked up and tried to see his tormentor in the dark cell. "I don't need friends. They are an unnecessary weakness!"_

_A joyful laughter filled the air. This child just wouldn't stop to amaze Three. _

"_Yes, they are. But do you really want me to believe that you have never wished for friends? That you've never felt lonely? Don't kid yourself. If it weren't for your father, you would have lived a normal and happy life without the need of thinking about weaknesses. He cheated you out of your childhood, your happiness." _

_Dr. Three stopped behind Yassen and stroked an almost gentle hand over his shoulder before he whispered in his ear: "And then those you did everything for, those you loved betrayed you again. They left you to be tortured, to die an agonizing death. I've sent your father the videotapes of our meetings. He only had to help us a little bit to stop your suffering, but he didn't want to. After everything you did to please him, you weren't worth it."_

"_Lies," screamed Yassen with his hoarse voice. _

"_Do you really believe that?" asked __Three before he suddenly grasped the child's arm and twisted it cruelly. An agonizing cry escaped the boy's throat already sore from screaming. _

"_Don't worry! I've only dislocated your shoulder. You know that I don't like you interrupting me. I'm going to reset it soon. After all we don't want you to suffer permanent damage, right? I was really careful to avoid that. It all depends on the right pressure, which has to hit the right position. But even so it will take some time until it will work like before and you will have to do some rather unpleasant physiotherapy I'll help you with. But now I'll have to leave...don't worry, I'll be back soon to ease you from your pain!" he said, slamming the door of Yassen's prison cell behind him and leaving the boy alone to deal with the aftermath of their conversation. Leaving him alone with his unbearable pain and his thoughts about betrayal and deception._

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><p>"Yassen? Yassen<em>!" <em>The loud voice entered Yassen's tormented thoughts. It took a few minutes, before he was finally able to shake off his haunting memories and take in his surroundings, but then he could have banged his head against something because of his own stupidity. He wasn't allowed to let slip his alertness. NEVER!

So he looked almost sleeplessly at his accompanist, who was his new "mentor". The man he only knew as Hunter examined him with his serious brown eyes while continuing to walk towards their destination. Yassen was sure that there wasn't much that he failed to notice.

"What was it that you thought about? Are you worried about the other students?" Hunter asked his handsome slender face emotionless.

"It's nothing," repulsed Yassen, uncertain about the motives behind Hunter's question and quickened his steps.

It really was like he had said to his mentor before. He couldn't judge the man. On the face of it he was a strikingly good-looking man with fair hairs similar to Yassen's, a man in his late twenties whose charisma was thrilling. He seemed to be the type whom others would follow even in the depths of hell.

His tall, slim and well-built figure always walked with an air of confidence and recklessness as if he wanted to tell everybody who dared to oppose him to go to hell. He could have been an athlete, a surfer maybe, if it weren't for a certain feature around his slightly hard, narrow mouth and the determinate look in his eyes. A determination that could and would kill.

Hunter was a man that disturbed Yassen more than his sadistic tormentor because of his own uncertainty regarding Hunter. He just didn't know what to except and what to prepare for.

Although he had treated him with nothing but a cold indifference mixed with hidden fairness up until now, it could all be a trap laid out by his tormentor to deceive him. After all, the torturer had warned him that he would keep sight of him...

Yassen shook his head to free himself of his thoughts. He couldn't let himself be distracted. This place was dangerous. Everybody here was dangerous and perhaps could kill him in a heartbeat. And he was here to learn to be like them. A fact that was as much thrilling as disturbing. He did want to be strong like them, but killing people or torturing them like it had been done to him...

Yassen fought his budding panic like he always did and buried it deep inside. In the end, panic was a weakness like everything else.

"Ready?" asked his mentor and Yassen nodded slightly annoyed about himself that Hunter was able to tell that something was disturbing him.

"Good! Then keep your head up and fight until the end!" he said pushing open the door of the training hall and leaving a dumb founded Yassen behind. Had he really heard the cold man imitating a general of a past century while hiding a smile? He had to be mistaken.

The hall was rather small, especially since the ten soon-to-be assassins that were spread out around the whole room were engaged in a rather vicious fight with another trainee. The twin sisters he had briefly seen danced almost through the entire fighting space while evading the other fighters and exchanging brutal punches and kicks. Their movements were so flawless and fluent they could barely be seen, nevertheless each one was successfully blocked as if they could read the mind of their opponent.

Desire for their strength flashed through his mind. They didn't have to be afraid...

Suddenly the man dressed in black, who had stood motionless in the middle of the sparring whereas only his eyes moved quickly observing every breath of those around him, flicked out his foot and tripped one of the sisters up. Totally absorbed in her duel the woman didn't see this movement and fell to the ground severely. A mistake her sister immediately made the most of and threw a punch that would have killed the fallen woman if her attacker hadn't stopped it inches from her carotid.

The man nodded slowly and the fighter, whose attention drawn by the fall of the woman, stopped this instant.

"Well reacted, Nisha. Exploit every opportunity or weakness you see in your opponent after analysing instinctively, if it's only a subterfuge," he explained his students with a slight Russian accent, "Aruna's inattentiveness showed how easy even an expert martial artist can die if he lets his surroundings escape his attention! You can never decrease your vigilance. An enemy could be everywhere. Even in the form of your own instructor or the form of a hole in the ground over which you stumble... Calum, Aaron, Ethan and Miguel," he looked at the two pairs of sparring partners who stood out due to their muscular built, "practise your coordination during a fight as a team. Aruna will gladly be your sparring partner since she has to practise watching her surroundings." The instructor didn't even glimpse at her and continued talking to the men.

"You have to act as a unity. Each one of you has to know the movements of the others, before they do them, and adapt his own. Even assassins fight in teams sometimes. The rest of you will watch and analyse this fight while working through the karate Kata. Don't dare to miss a movement of one of them or make a mistake in your own."

Although his voice was quiet, it contained a terrible power that promised hell on earth upon those who dared to resist him.

His students obeyed immediately and focused on their two tasks. Their bodies instinctively performed the well-known moves, forced time and time again upon their muscles, while their eyes followed the fight in the middle if the hall.

The four men circled Aruna who stood there in fighting stance, seemingly ready to counter every move. But even Yassen could see that they were experienced fighters. A punch from one of them had to feel like a clap of thunder. And it would be impossible for the woman to dodge or block every single attack from them. He knew it was her punishment for being unobservant or maybe for only being here. He promised himself to keep this lesson in mind.

But contrary to his expectations Aruna managed a long time to evade being hit. She moved like a blade of grass in the wind, flexible yet strong. The gracefulness and precision of her movements impressed Yassen. She seemed to be the equal of her opponents.

But it wasn't long until she didn't see a punch coming. Aruna blocked a kick from the Mediterranean guy whom the instructor had called Miguel, while simultaneously evading the attacks of his two companions. She failed to notice that the last one was approaching behind her until the whole power of his punch connected with her head and knocked her to the ground.

Even though she managed to get up quickly before being kicked, there was a change in her desperate fight, which had been destined to be lost since the very beginning. Still dizzy and heavily hurt because of the earlier hit, her reactions were rather slow. The whole fight turned into simply beating the shit out of her. Another powerful blow knocked her down again. Knowing that she couldn't do anything anymore, Aruna curled up in a ball to protect herself as best as possible from the vicious attacks.

The Martial Arts instructor turned away disinterested in her soft cries of pain and seemed to acknowledge Yassen's presence for the first time. He scrutinized him and then referred to Hunter: "You think that he is ready?"

Hunter gave Yassen a brief look, then he nodded and answered: "His injuries are healed. The board is eager to see if he is able to live up to Dr. Three's expectations. He better be ready!"

Yassen understood it as a warning to not disappoint his mentor, to not follow the example of the broken woman on the ground, who was observed by her sister with a blank face.

Then Hunter left without a second glance and left Yassen to the unscrupulous instructor.

His feelings were mixed. He looked forward to learning more, to being strong. But then again he knew that it would be hard. Especially considering what he had just learned.

There was always someone stronger, someone more vicious. And yet Yassen was determined to beat them all, even if he had to become the worst monster the world had ever seen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, looks like I'm simply unable to update fast... *hiding*  
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**Thanks to angeliine and **C.J.0608** who pressed the button and reviewed! :P It's always great to learn about your thoughts!  
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**And, C.J.0608, thank you for being a beta every fanfiction writer could dream of! ;-)  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, although I dream of it... ;-) The characters belong to Anthony Horowitz, I just changed the circumstances in this FAN FICTION! :P**

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><p>John slipped in the shadows unnoticed from everyone except the Martial Arts instructor.<p>

Professor Yermalov as he was called didn't seem to miss anything. But he didn't care what his colleague did, his sole purpose was the perfection of his own Martial Arts and the fighting abilities of everyone who dared to enter his domain.

The undercover agent could watch the training of his charge without the knowledge of the mistrustful boy.

"You have had a certain amount of training," said the Professor coldly, "but it won't be enough. If you want to survive, you have to become a master. At first I want you to fight Nisha. She deserves a break."

Yassen nodded without revealing if he was offended by Yermalov's opinion, and went to the female fighter.

His mentor noticed the arrogant look Nisha gave the boy, but she knew better than to question orders and instantly began a torrent of vicious kicks and blows which surprised even John. His student did his best to evade or block, but he was clearly out of his league.

Soon he only lay motionless on the ground while Nisha portrayed a similar image to the four guys who had beaten up her sister, and as such continued to kick him.

Suddenly Yassen's hand went up, caught her leg and after turning himself around, he threw his whole weight at the back of her knee. Nisha, who had done the same mistake as her sister and hadn't watched him closely enough, hit to the ground brutally totally taken by surprise.

The fair-haired boy grasped at the change and delivered a kick to her head with unexpected force. But it wasn't enough to knock her out. Although it was easy to forget that he was in fact fourteen years old because he just didn't act his age and he was stronger than normal boys of his age, it was only the strength and speed of a rabbit against a lioness.

He still had to learn the weak spots that, when handled correctly, could stop such a dangerous animal in an instant.

So when the furious lioness bared her teeth and attacked, Yassen couldn't do anything.

He had to pay dearly for his small victory, but the boy had shown what he was capable of. He had seen that it was inevitable for him to be beaten, so he changed tactics and turned in his favour the fact that Nisha was so certain of her victory.

John smiled. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who had seen Nisha's condescension towards her opponent.

This time he really turned away from Yassen's training and left the training hall secretly. He was content with what he had seen. The boy was far from perfect, but he showed an unusual ability to adapt and use his mind. Combined with his natural ability for fighting it was evident that soon he would be a force to be reckoned.

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><p>The rest of the day he didn't think much about his charge. He had been told that Yassen would train with the other instructors and he should concentrate on evaluating Miguel's abilities to decide if he was ready for his first mission.<p>

The hours went by with various exercises and simulations about what the Spaniard would do in different situations, and at the end John knew that he couldn't put off that Scorpia got a new assassin.

He knew that it would always be a tightrope walk between training this men and women at the best of his knowledge to prove himself worthy to Scorpia and to convince his conscience that it was for a bigger purpose to perfect those killers and let them walk away with it.

For now, he said to himself, it's necessary! He was doing everything to stop those bastards who wanted to hurt the innocent.

When the night drew nearer and he had finished the chores he was instructed to, his thoughts went to the child who was caught in all of this without deserving anything of it. Suddenly he had an uneasy feeling like something bad happened...

He wasn't sure what to make of it, but years in the field had taught him to listen to his instincts.

He hurried to Yassen's flat and stormed inside. He faltered and felt sick at the sight in front of him, when he found his premonition confirmed.

The usually stoic boy crouched in the darkest corner behind his bed. His head buried in his lap, he embraced himself while shaking uncontrollably.

The sight distressed John more than he would have thought possible. The sight was just so... wrong. He should laugh, play pranks, and argue with his parents, but instead this strong boy had to live through hell knows what.

"Hey kid, what happened?" he asked gently and reached out to touch the child, but the boy recoiled violently and began to quiver even more.

John thought of his own wife and the child that grew inside her. A child like this one who should be protected... who should be irritated by his parents embracing him, but secretly enjoy the warmth and love he experienced... no child should connect a gentle touch with pain and terror...

His fury burned inside him, he could barely stop himself from running to whoever had done this and tear his bloody head from his body. And he had a growing suspicion who was responsible for this.

He took deep breaths and quickly controlled his rage. It wouldn't help the child if he couldn't think clearly.

"Hey Yassen, calm down. It's alright now. Nobody will hurt you. You're safe," he said in a soothing voice while desperately trying to find a way to get through to the child.

At last he sat a certain distance away on the ground with back against the wall. He closed his eyes and began to speak: "I don't know how to prove to you that you can trust me and that I won't hurt you or lure you into a trap like you seem to think. But I'm married and although my wife doesn't know what I'm doing, I love her deeply. She is carrying my child and, you know, she would hate me forever if I would let another child be all alone and hurt."

A weak voice interrupted him: "I'm not a child!" John opened his eyes and stared into the boy's face.

He looked in those tear-stained eyes and realized for the first time how vulnerable the always seemingly indifferent boy really was underneath his mask.

"Yes you are, and then you are more than just a child," he said and ruffled the fair hair, completely ignoring the stiffening of its owner.

Then his voice grew more serious: "Do you want to talk about it?" After a moment of silence he continued: "You think that I would believe you weak if you talk about this, don't you?"

Again there was only silence, but the flash in the brilliant blue eyes answered his question anyway.

"You're so focused on being strong, that you fail to see the truth. I'll tell you a secret. All soldiers are cry-babies. They live through hell and everything they do leaves a mark on them. There are different methods of coping. Whether it's crying under cover of darkness or inflicting fear in others to feel strong and above their fear or whatever they decide to do, either way they express their fear. Or else they would go crazy. Why do you think that everyone of them has to see a shrink?

Don't suppress your emotions, they will get out eventually. And then you won't be in control. You can tell me about it or you can choose to face your demons alone, but don't ignore them."

His voice grew more emotional with each word he said, but the undercover agent couldn't stop himself, nor did he want to. He wasn't able to stand and watch how the child destroyed himself.

"But you aren't a soldier anymore," muttered his interlocutor.

"I'm still a soldier," the MI6 agent disagreed, "I only have different superiors and a slightly different scope of tasks."

"I don't want to lose control like this again," the child hesitated, and then he continued with a stronger and more determined voice, "I still don't trust you, but I guess after what you saw today, it can't hurt to tell you... Dr. Three, he picked me up after the poison class. I didn't want to follow him, but... I know what'll happen, when I don't obey him..."

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><p><em>Once again he finished up in a dark cell strapped onto a bare board, his head lower than the rest of his body. A more hum<em>_orous part of him asked himself if he should be concerned about his apparent affection to dark bloodstained places and being tied up. _

_But then the reality quickly found its way back. He dreaded the thought of his tormentor coming back for him. _

_With each step he had followed the man, each step that had taken him nearer to pain and despair, nearer this dark cell, he had thought about a way out. _

_But there hadn't been one. _

_Sometimes he hated his own rational mind that told him how much struggling or attempting to flee would only increase the sick pleasure it gave his tormentor to hurt him. Sometimes he wished that he could simply feel panic and stop thinking._

_But he knew better. After all he had spent his entire childhood with a psychopath similar to this one. At first he hadn't wanted to believe it, but his damn mind couldn't help but compare his father to the sick bastard who had made the past months a living hell for him and had animated the term "torture" with very vivid images. He couldn't ignore this. Not after he had been told these things that kept tormenting his mind._

"_What are you thinking about?" asked the voice that he almost couldn't bear to listen to. "After all, I came all the way to this island to pay you a visit. It would be really rude, if you didn't tell me, don't you think?"_

_Yassen opened the eyes he didn't remember closing and looked into the merciless face of Dr. Three who came back with a piece of cloth and a canister of water whose size alarmed him. _

"_I only thought that you are losing your touch. Waterboarding, really? Don't you think it's getting boring? You have already done worse things to me," he said with more confidence than he felt. Even if it was true, there are some things that you just can't get used to. _

_The torture expert didn't answer. Instead he simply covered his victim's face with the cloth and poured water onto it. _

_Although Yassen knew exactly what to expect, he couldn't help but fight against his restraints the moment the cloth touched his face. There were no coherent thoughts at all._

_The overwhelming panic he had longed for before was drowning him just as his tormentor was doing._

_Panic... He couldn't breathe... He was drowning... _

_Air... Water in his mouth... He needed air... _

_His lungs were bursting... More water... Drowning... _

_Panic... Dying... Air... _

_Then it suddenly stopped and he sucked the air, the wonderful refreshing air greedily in his tormented lungs. _

"_Do you really think that it's becoming boring?" asked the cursed voice slightly interested. _

_He wanted to beg. To tell him he would do anything to make it stop, he almost did it. He had already opened his mouth... but then he saw how the bastard leaned forward to understand him better and asked with that crazy friendly smile of his, if there was something he wanted to tell him... _

_The boy saw his eager anticipation... and suddenly his mind went clear. He was still able to feel the pain, the horror of what happened... but the memory of this bastard telling him how he would teach him how to become immune__ torture, if he was strong enough, flashed through his mind and diminished the rest. He remembered Three telling him again and again that the pain would stop, if he only begged for it, and how he had made him pay for this weakness. _

_He suddenly knew with unexpected certainty that his tormentor wanted him to be quiet, to prove that he could withstand this. A well-known fact for him, although he had forgotten it over the pain. So he gritted his teeth and shook his head with the knowledge that he had already surprised his tormentor a few times and that he would do it again. _

_After that, __everything went blurry. There was pain and despair. And questions. And his determination. _

_In the end he gave in to the weakness and cried for Three to stop, only to be punished once again for his weakness. _

_But even in his semiconscious state he saw the look of pure satisfaction on the torture expert's face. _

_And before his thoughts were buried once again in agony, he had felt almost proud that he had managed to surprise this psychopath one more time._

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><p>John listened with pure horror to what Three had done to the child. He couldn't believe his ears.<p>

When Yassen was finished, he wanted to ignore his orders and tell Blunt to go to hell, but he couldn't. A

lthough he desperately said himself that nothing, NOTHING was worth to let a child suffer like this, he couldn't do what his heart told him was right. He should grab the boy and leave this damn island and god woe betides whoever stood in his way...

But the faces of his wife and his unborn child who would never be safe if he betrayed Scorpia this way, and the images of all those people who would die if he didn't continue his work stopped him. But maybe he could help the boy escape without anyone noticing that it was his work...

For this, it was inevitable that he gained the boy's trust. Or he would never agree to flee and always suspect a trap.

Interrupting his thoughts his charge suddenly asked: "Will you be there, when your child is born?"

"I don't know!" the agent answered honestly. "It's difficult to get vacation, you know." Yassen laughed and it sounded honest.

"Should I help you clean up this mess?" the agent asked the boy, and pointed to the wet and torn clothes the child wore.

But whatever had made the withdrawn and mistrustful boy speak so freely to him was gone. "No, thank you. I think I'll just go to sleep. Tomorrow will be an exhausting day" he said politely and with as much warmth as a frozen river.

His mentor nodded slowly and regretted silently that the atmosphere had changed and everything was back to the usual. He went to the door and already wanted to leave, but then an almost shy voice called him back: "Thank you for being here today."

And John thought that even so, maybe he really had accomplished something today.

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><p><strong>I'm not begging for reviews, no I'm not! :P But it would be nice to now what you think about this! <strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, here's the next chapter. As always I apologize for the time it took me to update this... **

**Huge parts of this are direct quotations from "Scorpia", I just thought that they fit better than everything I could write.**

**The next chapter is already written and will probably be up tomorrow...**

**And thanks to ALBANY, Blissful Winter and hollyblue2 for reviewing! It's great to know your thoughts... **

**Special thanks to my beta C.J.0608 again, who is really invaluable! :-)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, although I dream of it... ;-) The characters belong to Anthony Horowitz, I just changed the circumstances in this FAN FICTION! :P**

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><p><em>Cheerful whistles entered his agony.<em>

"_Go home, Yassen. But remember that you can never escape me! Until next time you decide whether you prefer the whip or a knife... There is so much a creative person can do with them..." whispered the voice he hated with such a passion that it seemed to burn him from within. Hated maybe even more than his traitorous father. _

_Knock, knock. _

He awoke breathing heavily. Something was on his face. He couldn't breathe. Panicking he tore the thing from his face.

It was a blanket. It must have wrapped itself around him when he had been trashing about in his sleep, said a reasonable voice in his mind. A blanket. But who's? Where was he? Blinking he took in his surroundings.

He didn't calm down until he recognised the familiar contours of the flat he lived in. His dream had disturbed him deeply. He had been back in the cellar...

He shook his head and tried to escape the nightmare he had experienced that followed him in his sleep. Instead he focused on the wooden furniture bathed in the bright sun's rays that gave everything a warm and friendly light. It seems almost... inviting... But the brightness also told him it was late. He had slept longer than usual.

Then a slight knocking on the door reminded him on the sound that woke him up. Realisation let him jump out of his bed and hurry to the closed door. Whoever it was, he didn't want to let the person wait. He opened the door and stared right in the face of a smiling woman. He could barely withstand the impulse to slam the door on her face.

She must have seen something in his eyes, because she simply smiled and said with a mocking voice: "Relax, little Yassen. I'm not here to hurt you."

But he didn't even listen to her. He was too stunned with how the smile lit up her face.

He knew that the woman was beautiful. He guessed she was in her early-twenties. Cat-like eyes of deep amber sparkled at him half hidden from her long eyelashes. Her smooth skin was dark tan and simply belonged to the delicate features of her face.

Yet it was the face that had beaten the crap out of him. Nisha's face.

"What do you want?" he asked curtly. His body clearly remembered their last encounter.

"Well roared, lion," she said still smiling. "But you have to mistake me for someone else. We have not yet been properly introduced to each other. My name is Aruna."

He looked in her eyes and the difference between the woman in front of him and the one he had fought was like night and day. They may be twins, the spitting images of each other. Yet Nisha was hard and almost cruel, whereas Aruna seemed sweet and lovely.

But it could also be a deception. Someone who associated with the organization that kidnapped him was clearly not lovely but deathly.

Suddenly a violent cough hit him and the pain in his throat that reminded him once again of the hours spent with Three he was so eager to forget. He tried to breathe deeply and calm his tormented respiratory tracts.

The dull pain that reminded him of the side effects this torture could have. He could only hope that Three knew what he did and didn't leave him with permanent damage. Brain damage because of oxygen deprivation or water in his lungs weren't exactly on his wish list.

"You look like hell," Aruna said with her melodic voice that had the sweet ring of bells. "My sister didn't do this to you," she put her head on its side and took in his ragged appearance, "looks like they are actually right. Our favourite torturer really has a link to you. Either he is hell bent on killing you as slowly as possible or he has another reason to work you in the ground like this. If you like I can get you some painkillers. Three can really be a pain in the ass."

Yassen had starred at her blankly, before he shook his pounding head and narrowed his eyes slightly. "What do you want?" he repeated.

"Oh don't be like this, sweetie. The others talk about you, they are really eager to get to know you. At first they were kind of furious and thought that a kid like you has no business to be on this island. But they've all heard about Three's fleeting visit here. They've seen you train harder than most others. You get us all wrong. We train together; we fight and hurt each other. But this isn't a lone wolf thing like you against the instructors and your fellow students."

He ignored the sweetie-part and asked instead: "The others? We? The last time I saw you and the others, four musclemen beat you up and then your lovely sister did the same with me. I wouldn't call that a happy family," he said amused.

She sighed, feigning irritation.

"None of us are evil, you know. Inside the ring we are enemies and when we fight, there's no room for hesitation or false mercy. Yesterday, I learned a lesson and it will prevent me from getting killing because of carelessness."

Her conviction surprised him. She was at ease with the violence and viciousness her fellow students had treated her with and was almost thankful for it... He didn't know what to make of this, but she continued: "It's a myth that assassins always work alone. Teamwork is also required. And the others have earned my respect. You can't work together if you don't know what to expect and what not to. It's true that you can't trust any one of us. We are selfish and do what has to be done. The mission always comes first. But we care for those who have earned our respect and try everything possible to keep them alive inside the limitations we have in this line of business. Although we have no mercy for traitors!"

Her shining eyes grew hard and for the first time in this conversation Yassen was actually able to see the lethal assassin inside this woman. "Every one of us has a history, has a reason as to why he or she is here. We aren't heroes; we aren't even nice. But we know the real world. Not the façade normal people live in. This world isn't nice and if you want to survive, you have to put this façade behind you and understand the cruel rules of reality where the only one you can trust is yourself and the monsters around you are the only ones who could care for you."

Aruna smiled again and said with a playful smile: "Think about it and give us a chance. Now to answer your question... I was told to bring you to our headmaster."

"Headmaster?" he asked unsure, if she was joking. "Yes, this killer-school has a headmaster. Seems like nobody told you about him... well then I won't do it either. He will tell you himself. It's much more fun this way!" When she smiled knowingly, he had to fight the overwhelming urge to hit this beautiful face of hers. But the knowledge that she could probably kill him in less than a heartbeat stopped him and...well, if he was honest, she somewhat intrigued him.

"Do you want to stay like this," she let her eyes travel up and down his body, "or do you want to have a more suitable appearance, when meeting the almighty Oliver?" Before he had time to answer, she had already pushed him aside and stormed inside his flat. When he didn't follow, she turned around impatiently, grabbed his arm and dragged him behind her.

"What is this?" he asked feeling more than just annoyed. "Since I don't have all day, _this_ is my attempt to hurry things up. Now be quiet and take a shower before I decide that you can't do this alone." Yassen actually felt himself blushing, something he hadn't thought possible and surprised himself with obeying her command.

He almost fled to the bathroom and tried desperately to ignore her chuckling when he locked the door behind. He felt childish, but he needed to gesture to free his thoughts of her damn face.

The warm water felt wonderful on his aching body and he noticed himself spending more time under the shower than necessary. When he got out and wrapped a towel around his body, he caught a glimpse of his body in the disturbingly big mirror beside the luxurious shower. The horrible bruises and scars on his body were a familiar sight.

He only wrapped the soft towel tighter around him and joined the woman that rummaged through his wardrobe.

"Having fun?" he asked mockingly. He wasn't able to dodge the clothes she suddenly threw at him. "Actually yes!" The glinting of her eyes promised him much more.

He unfolded the clothes and stared blankly at the underwear and the black sportswear she had thrown at him.

Aruna didn't miss his reaction. "Oh come on. This isn't the first time for me to see these kind of clothes," she stressed the last word and then laughed. She apparently wasn't able to stop annoying him.

When she saw his look, she sighed and turned her face to the wall with a generous gesture that included the room behind her and his bathroom. "It's all yours. Feel free to change wherever you like."

He could almost feel her amusement, but chose to ignore it and put the clothes on fast.

"Are you ready yet?" the strange assassin-trainee asked the child. After he had mumbled his agreement, she whirled around and grabbed his arm again. "Come on, little Yassen. Let's go."

The next minutes she was constantly babbling. Complaining about the impersonality of his flat, commenting on the clothes in his cupboard, that were way too dark and unfashionable, or simply telling him of the monarchy that had been on this island before. He was surprised that he hadn't noticed the origins of the older buildings. But then again, he hadn't exactly taken notice of his surroundings lately.

"What do you think about our dear Professor Yermalov?" Aruna then asked in a matey-way.

"The fighting instructor?" he asked and actually thought about her question. He didn't want to become friends with anyone of them, but he neither wanted to get on the wrong side of Aruna. If there was another way, he would go for it. "He clearly knows what he is talking about," he shrugged, "but I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley."

Aruna chuckled. "Neither do I. I've seen him finish a fight with a single finger. Fast as a snake and about as friendly..."

They crossed the courtyard and went through an archway into a vast room with a multicoloured mosaic floor, ornate windows, pillars and intricate wooden angels carved into the walls. This might once have been a place of worship; now it was used as a refectory and meeting place, with long tables, modern sofas and a hatch leading into a kitchen beyond. The ceiling was domed and carried the faint remnants of a fresco. There had been angels here too but they had long ago faded.

There was a door on the far side. Aruna went over to it and knocked.

"Entrez!" The voice, speaking French, sounded friendly.

They went into a tall, octagonal room. Books lined five of the eight walls. The ceiling, painted blue with silver stars, was at least twenty metres high. There was a ladder on wheels reaching up to the top shelves. Two windows looked out onto more woodland, but leaves blocked much of the light out. An iron chandelier with about a dozen electric bulbs hung down on a heavy chain.

A solid-looking desk took up the centre of the room with two antique chairs in front of it and one behind. A small, plump man in a suit and waistcoat occupied the third chair. He was working at a laptop computer, his stubby fingers typing at great speed. He was peering at the screen through gold-rimmed glasses. He had a neat black beard that tapered to a point under his chin. The rest of his hair showed only small signs of grey.

"Yassen Kasakow! Please... come in." The man looked up from his computer with an expression Yassen was unable to identify.

"I apologize for the long time it took me to welcome you properly to this institution." Apart from a slight French accent, his English was perfect. "My name is Oliver d'Arc. I am, you might say, the principal of this establishment – the head teacher, perhaps. I had important business to attend, so I was out of town. But now I've time to welcome our newest student properly. Sit down Yassen, you too Aruna."

Yassen sat down on one of the antique chairs and saw out of the corner of his eyes that Aruna did the same.

"I have heard a lot about you."

"Really? Well, I haven't heard anything about you," the fair-haired boy answered.

"There isn't much to know about me," D'Arc gave Yassen a sly smile. "I am only the guy who observes the students and teachers of this unusual school. Who organises and overviews everything. And I've the last word, if a student is allowed to continue his training or if he should... help others with their training."

Yassen was unable to stop himself from saying: "So you are an analyst that has the general view with the reports of each single teacher." He waited until d'Arc confirmed his thoughts and continued then with slightly narrowed eyes: "What exactly do you mean with this helping?"

The self-proclaimed headmaster smiled even friendlier. "Dr Three is always in need of someone to let his students practice with as well as most of the instructors here. You have to know the feeling of stabbing someone. And slitting someone's throat isn't easy. A knife can become entangled in the human ribcage... There is so much a student on Malagosto has to practise."

Yassen found it somewhat creepy to sit in front of this guy and look him in the eyes while he decided whether he was worthy to be trained and continue living.

D'Arc watched his reaction meticulously while Yassen tried to appear absolutely indifferent. The staring contest lasted endless minutes in which the boy sat there with a lump in his throat. He didn't want to die yet. There was at least one thing that he wished to accomplish. One final wish that's realization he always imagined in his most desperate hours. It was what gave him the strength he needed to survive this hell.

He permitted himself to fill his mind with the future images he devoted his whole existence to. When he saw the scene in front of his mind's eye, it induced him to smile d'Arc in the face.

"I'm eager to find out. It's going to be interesting to see the other side. Up until now I've only experienced the visual aids part."

Aruna chuckled while d'Arc's simply smiled and continued his examination.

"You are an interesting child," he said finally. "I'm curious about your future accomplishments. You have the ability to become part of Scorpia. Use it! There is a psychological examination a new student has to pass, but I think you will do fine. Aruna, take him to Dr. Steiner and then go to training. I've heard that you need it."

He dismissed the two students who were eager to escape the strange headmaster of Malagosto. After the door had been closed behind them, Aruna signed with relief, patted him on his shoulder and chattered happily: "He is a scary guy, right? There is something in his eyes that..."

Yassen simply ignored her babbling and followed her to a small building complex that's appearance convey the impression of old and dilapidated walls like most buildings were on this part of Malagasto to deceive prying eyes.

The scenery appeared enchanted. An atmosphere of magic surrounded the old monastery and promised the child inside Yassen that everything was possible, that the assassin next to him was a fairy queen who would help him be free from the world of evil. He really liked this fantasy. But as soon as the fairy and he entered the ruins the dream shattered.

In the sterile white was no room for illusions.

"So tell me, Yassen. What do you see?"

Yassen was sitting in a leather chair in a plain, whitewashed room at the back of the monastery. He was on one side of a desk, facing a smiling middle-aged man who sat on the other side. The man's name was Dr. Karl Steiner and, although he spoke with a slight German accent, he had come to the island from South Africa. He was a psychiatrist and looked it – with silver-framed glasses, thinning hair and eyes that were always more inquisitive than friendly. Dr. Steiner was holding a white card with a black shape on it. The shape looked like nothing at all; it was just a series of blobs. But Yassen was meant to be able to interpret it.

He thought for a moment. He knew that this was called Rorschach test; one of his many teachers back then in the house of his father had told him about it. The test was named after its creator, Swiss psychologist Hermann Rorschach. It was a psychological test in which subjects' perceptions of inkblots are recorded and then analyzed using psychological interpretation, complex scientifically derived algorithms, or both. Some psychologists use this test to examine a person's personality characteristics and emotional functioning. It has been employed to detect underlying thought disorder, especially in cases where patients are reluctant to describe their thinking processes openly* like Yassen himself.

Eventually he spoke.

"I suppose it's a man lying in a pool of his own blood," he suggested.

"That's excellent. Very good!" Dr Steiner put the card down and picked up another. "How about this one?"

The second shape was easier. He narrowed his eyes. "It's a gun pointed at someone's head."

"Good, thank you."

Dr Steiner laid the second card down and there was a brief silence in the office. Outside, Yassen could hear gunfire. The other students were down on the shooting range. But there was no view of the range out of the window. Perhaps the psychiatrist had chosen this room for that reason.

"So how are you settling in?" Dr Steiner asked.

Yassen shrugged. "OK."

"You have no anxieties? Nothing you wish to discuss?"

The corner of the boy's mouth twitched. "Well, I could tell you a lot about the wonderful time I spent with Dr Three and what I feel about it. But that's not what we are here for. You are here to learn if I can be of use to Scorpia, if I can kill and if I will obey orders."

He leaned forward and looked the psychiatrist straight in the eyes. "The answer is yes every single time."

"Good. That's good." The psychiatrist seemed determined to be positive.

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><p><strong>*I took this from wikipedia.<strong>

**And last but not least: Please review? ;-)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay guys, I'm sooo sorry! Although the chapter has been written for days, I was unable to update it. The keyboard of my laptop had to get replaced (it was brocken and didn't react the way it should which made writing really hard!). I just got it back and updated as soon as I could.**

**Parts of this (okay almost everything ;-) ) are direct quotations from "Scorpia" again!**

**And thanks to Majortomboy , snowflake13300 and anon for reviewing! You really made my day.**

**And anon: I totally agree with you! ;-)**

**Special thanks to my beta C.J.0608 again! What should I do without you?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, although I dream of it... ;-) The characters belong to Anthony Horowitz, I just changed the circumstances in this FAN FICTION! :P**

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><p>Two minutes later he was back outside.<p>

He had been missing gun practice because of his medical appointment (and due to oversleeping).

He joined the other students on the firing range. This was on the western side of the island – the side that faced away from Venice.

Although Scorpia were legally permitted to be on Malagosto, they hadn't wanted to draw attention to themselves with the sound of gunfire, and the woodland provided a natural screen.

There was a strip of the island that was long and flat with nothing growing apart from wild grasses. They had built a cut out town with offices and shops that were nothing more than fronts, like a film set.

Yassen had already been through it twice, using a handgun to shoot at paper targets – black rings with a red bull's eye – that popped up in the windows and doors.

Gordon Ross, a ginger-haired technical specialist who seemed to have picked up most of his skills in Scotland's tougher jails, was in charge of the shooting range. He nodded as he saw Yassen approach.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Kasakow. How was your visit to the shrink? Did he tell you you're mad? If not, I wonder what the hell you are doing here!"

A number of other students stood around him, unloading and adjusting their weapons.

"You're just in time to show us what you can do before lunch," Gordon Ross announced. His Scottish accent made almost everything sound like a challenge. "You got a high score yesterday. In fact, you were second in the class. Let's see if you can do even better today. But this time I may have built in a little surprise!"

He handed Yassen a gun, a Belgian-made FN semiautomatic pistol. Yassen weighed it in his hand, trying to find the balance between himself and his weapon. Ross explained that this was essential to the technique he called instinctive firing.

"Remember-you have to shoot instantly. You can't stop to take aim. If you do, you're dead. In a real combat situation you don't have time to mess around. You and the gun are one. And if you believe that you can hit the target, you will hit the target. That's what instinctive firing is all about."

Now Yassen stepped forward, the gun at his side, watching the mocked-up doors and windows in front of him. He knew there would be no warning. At any time, a target could appear. He would be expected to turn and fire.

He waited. He was aware of the other students watching him. Out of the corner of his eye he could just make out the shape of Gordon Ross. Was the teacher smiling?

A sudden movement.

A target had appeared in an upper window and immediately Yassen saw that the bull's eye targets with their impersonal rings had been replaced. A photograph had appeared instead. It was a life-sized colour picture of a young man. Yassen didn't know who he was – but that didn't matter. He was a target.

There was no time to hesitate.

Yassen raised the gun and fired.

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><p>Later that day, Oliver d'Arc, the principal of Scorpia's Training and Assessment Centre, sat in his office on Malagosto. Talking to Julia Rothman. Her image filled the screen of the laptop computer on his desk. There was a webcam perched on a shelf and his own image would be appearing simultaneously somewhere in the Widow's Palace just across the water, in Venice.<p>

It was only the second occasion they had spoken since Yassen had arrived. The time was exactly seven o'clock in the evening. Outside, the sun had began to set.

"How is he progressing?" Mrs. Rothman asked. Her own webcam didn't flatter her; her face on the screen looked cold and a little colourless.

D'Arc considered. He ran a thumb and a single finger down the sides of his chin, stroking his beard. "The boy is certainly exceptional," he murmured. "Of course, his father trained him all his life, almost from the moment he could walk. I have to say, he did a good job."

"And?"

"He is very intelligent. Quick-witted. Furthermore he is in very good shape. According to his medical report, he's a little run-down. But that's to be expected after the time he spent with Dr. Three and it's tractable in the long run.

I have no doubts about his usefulness to us, although we should be careful. Yassen is rather unpredictable. His loyalty is a problem."

"I am very sorry to hear that, Professor d'Arc. Please explain."

"The boy is rather withdrawn and prefers to be left alone. He has the perfect personality for an assassin, but if he should be a Scorpia assassin, we have to find something that makes him more approachable for us. After all, we kidnapped and tortured him. But if we succeed, we will have a very precious asset.

I will illustrate it, Mrs Rothman. Today Yassen returned to the shooting range. We've been pitting him through a course of instinctive firing. It's something he's never done before and, I have to say, it takes many of our students several weeks to master the art. After just a few hours on the range, Yassen was already achieving impressive results. At the end of his second day he scored eighty-two per cent."

"I don't see anything wrong with that."

D'Arc shifted in his seat. In his formal suit and tie, shrunk to fit Mrs Rothman's computer screen, he looked rather like a ventriloquist's dummy. "Today we switched the targets," he explained. "Instead of black and red rings, Yassen was asked to fire at photographs of men and women. He was supposed to aim at the vital areas: the heart... between the eyes."

"How did he do?"

"That's the point. His score rose to ninety per cent. He aims better, when he has a target." D'Arc took off his glasses and polished them with a cloth. "I also have the results of his Rorschach psychological test," he went on. "He was asked to identity certain shapes-"

"I do know what a Rorschach test is, Professor."

"Of course. Forgive me. He identified each shape the same way as the other students; he certainly has a high killer instinct as his aim proved. But Dr. Steiner thinks that the trauma Yassen suffered, first with his family, then with Dr. Three left deep marks on his psyche. It's only natural. He fears that the boy might get out of control."

"You think he would go on a killing rampage, if we send him on an assignment?" she asked.

D'Arc nodded. "He certainly has the potential. We need to stabilize and tie him to us."

Rothman thought for a moment, then she said with a disturbing glint in her eyes: "At first I didn't agree with Three about the boy, but now I like his potential. Three is trying to break him and create a killing machine from the broken pieces. I think he underestimates the motivation of the child. Anyway, either way we will get the assassin we want. I have the perfect assignment to insure his loyalty in case that Three fails. Keep training the boy and make sure he knows that disobedience and failure mean death."

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><p><strong>Well, what do you think?<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**First of all, I'm really sorry, that it took me so long to write a new chapter. S****uddenly m****y life ****got much more complicated and I'm going through some things that I can't deal with… I still can't, but at least I found my way back to writing; I guess… I won't list those things that happened in my life, but believe me, when I tell you that I really have a good reason for abandoning writing like this. **

**Again, I can't tell you that it won't happen again, especially since there will be two major exams the next few weeks that decide whether I'm allowed to attend an important course at my university the next semester… But whatever happens, even if nobody likes this story, I have no intention to abandon this. Even if it takes years to finish it.**

**IMPORTANT: Someone pointed out to me that Gregorovich isn't a surname, but a patronym. Because of this I have changed the names of Yassen and his father to "Yassen Alexandrovich Kasakow" and "Alexander Nikolayevich Kasakow". I had an idea that will be disclosed in another chapter. Please bear with it. I said in the first chapter that this story will be heavily AU and I intend to exploit that as much as I like to.  
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**For those who don't know them, the unfamiliar words are Russian... I don't know anything about this language, so I asked my cousin to ask a friend of hers who speaks Russian... I really hope that it means the right things... :D I decided against using the cyrillic alphabet, because the phonetic version shows the way the language is spoken and well, I can't read cyrillic… ;-) The (hopefully correct) translation of those words is in the braces behind them.  
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**C.J.0608, you're a wonderful beta! *bending down my head* Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for your irreplacable help!**

**And thanks to everyone who reviewed and showed me that you're interested in reading this. I hope you still are. ;-) And now finally to the new chapter…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, although I dream of it... ;-) The characters belong to Anthony Horowitz, I just changed the circumstances in this FAN FICTION! :P Some parts of this chapter have their origin in Horowitz' book "Scorpia" and belong to him like most of the characters, the original storyline etc. **

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><p>"Yassen!" called a melodic voice that caused him to inwardly groan. For a moment he considered pretending that he hadn't heard her, but that would be childish and he didn't want anyone to be confirmed in earlier assumptions that he was nothing but a small child.<p>

So he stopped and waited for his pursuer to catch up. "What do you want?" He didn't want to sound too harsh or unfriendly, but neither had he time for whatever game the Indian woman had decided to play with him this time. He already had to hurry to get to the shooting range.

And after another restless night full of memories of a past he wanted nothing more than to forget, he didn't have the patience to deal with this woman who made a habit of being around him as much as possible after she had fetched him for his meeting with the headmaster a few weeks ago. She talked to him about everything that came to her erratic mind, trying to give him advice... It freaked him out. He just couldn't figure out her motives.

"Oh don't be like this, little Yassen," she teased. "I only want to congratulate you. You're becoming a pretty good shooter."

Yassen turned around and looked into the baffling depths of her amber eyes, dark pools of honey that invited the unsuspecting wanderer to sink and drown in them. "Yeah, right." A slightly sardonic smile graced his lips. "What do you really want, Aruna?"

The almost childish smile never left her beautiful face, but he was sure to have seen a flicker of something else in her eyes. Then it was gone and she answered with careful constructed exasperation in countenance and voice: "Oh come on, Yassen. Don't try to read into something that's not even there. Don't be so naive and see only the side of us you want to see. Yes, we are selfish. But so is every single human being on this planet. At least we are honest in our deception and don't hide our true nature from ourselves. It seems that you haven't listened to me the last time we talked."

Suddenly her voice grew completely serious and he could see the hidden steel in her eyes, when she leaned forward and said forcefully: "We are survivors. We are masters of deception, but so are you, little one. Don't deny this part of you. Embrace it. You want to survive this; you have something that keeps you going. I have observed you closely the last weeks. You have a crazy determination to do whatever it takes, but you distance yourself too obviously. You don't have to like anyone of us. You are smart; you know that you can't trust us. But you jump to the wrong conclusions. You are now a part of us. You know, everyone of us needs connections. We may end up as enemies some day, we may stay allies, but we earn each other's respect and it benefits us all. Each of us walks a fine line between seeing everyone as our potential enemy and the strange camaraderie that develops between us. Don't close yourself to this. It will only hurt you in the end."

Aruna's passionate words left him speechless. Every instinct in his body screamed at him that he should stay as far away from her and his other "classmates" as possible, but he couldn't deny the truth in her words. The question left his lips, before he could think about the wisdom of letting her know about his insecurity. "Why?"

"Why?" She let the word melt in her mouth like it was an exotic sweet whose taste she wanted to fathom. Then her expression changed at the split of a second. He couldn't help asking himself if she had a split personality or if she wanted to project this impression. Her sudden mood changes were somewhat unsettling.

Mirth danced in the beautiful amber when she pressed her lips beneath his ear and whispered with an alluring voice that sent shivers down his spine: "Maybe I just want to ensure that you will stay here with me."

Then she turned around and left laughing. "Or maybe I'm just a nice person. Who knows? The instructors have a meeting in the evening to discuss our progress. We students usually meet in the training hall to have a friendly spar, swap ideas and then grab something to eat together. Be sure to be there and maybe I will tell you my reasons." Then she quickened her steps and hurried to the shooting range, and Yassen couldn't do anything but run after her.

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><p>It came as a surprise to everyone but the Indian woman, who wore a satisfied grin on her face, when a rather sullen Yassen settled down at the edge of the training hall that evening.<p>

Under his cold façade, he was a little bit uneasy when he watched the other trainees going through several practice fights. Until now he had tried to spend as little time as possible outside of classes with them.

"Don't be like that!" admonished Aruna, who had just bowed to her sister to indicate the end of their fight and seemed genuinely pleased to see him. She approached him and he couldn't help but admire the way her tight jogging suit showed her slender body.

"How about sparring with me?" she continued with a knowing glint in her eyes.

He shrugged and rose careful not to lose sight of her. Yermalov's lesson about keeping an eye on your surroundings was deeply engraved into his mind.

He entered the fight with the expectation of being beaten to the ground like her sister did, but while Aruna was every bit as vicious as her sister she always took the time to explain his mistakes to him.

He collapsed in bed that night, tired, sore, but with a content smile on his face. He really had fun.

Aruna had been really helpful. But then they all were. That was the strange thing. He had been accepted without any problem in the strange fellowship of the Scorpia students. That in itself was remarkable.

He was by far the youngest person here, but that didn't seem to matter. Quite the opposite. He was accepted and even admired by the other students in a manner he hadn't thought possible. It seemed that Aruna's words about mutual respect had been true after all.

Even Miguel the guy that appeared to have a reciprocal relationship of hate with Aruna had trained earnestly with her. He had even come to Yassen and told him in no uncertain terms that he was glad that Yassen had diverted Dr. Three attention from him. Apparently Three had liked to extend the standard resistance to interrogation training to him, before he had taken a personal interest in Yassen. And even if Three hadn't _favoured _him as much as he did Yassen now, Miguel seemed honestly grateful about Three's new project.

Although he didn't know what to make of the strange compliment, it was nice to feel like a part of something once. He had never experienced the feeling of true acceptation or even gratitude before.

The smile was still on his face, when he fell asleep and his thoughts drifted into dark areas he had managed to avoid until now. It wasn't long until the smile twisted into an expression of absolute horror.

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><p>The meeting with the other instructors had been long and rather tedious. Their interest and praise in Yassen had been a relief since it meant that Three wouldn't have a reason to act on his threats, but also made him uneasy.<p>

A part of him didn't want Yassen to be good at creating almost flawless assassination strategies. The more he learned, the worse were his chances to ever live a normal life when John finally managed to get him away from everything. He had already made some arrangements without anyone noticing. The difficulty was to make sure that it looked like Yassen had fled alone. There could be nothing to trace back to him or else his family. He couldn't risk his wife or his unborn child. His mission that was still important to him would also be in danger.

But the biggest problem was still to make sure that Yassen would trust him enough not to suspect a trap, not to betray him to Scorpia. And John couldn't take chances. There was too much at stake for that.

He inhaled the cool night air and quickened his steps towards Yassen's apartment. He had contracted a habit of looking in on Yassen every evening since he had found him after Three's first visit.

He had been forced to patch up the youth four times since then. Although Yassen had never been an emotional wreck again like the first time, it hurt John to be unable to do anything to prevent the child from getting hurt like this. Especially since their meetings every evening had let him feel closer to the child.

Most of the times they just sat together for an hour, and John taught his young charge useful tricks that would help him on this island and the live as an assassin after that, even if John had no intention of letting him become one.

But he had to admit that he simply enjoyed talking to Yassen. The boy was an exceptional student; there was nothing that escaped his sharp mind. He was truly brilliant. Quiet, observant, but sometimes surprisingly sarcastic with a strange sense of humour that I didn't always get.

But sometimes Yassen told John tiny bits about himself that John treasured above all else. It surprised him to hear that Yassen loved learning new languages and perfecting them until nothing could set him apart from a native speaker. Languages weren't just a tool for him, he loved them in their own right.

Today he was rather late. He didn't think Yassen would have waited for him, before going to sleep. The days on Malagosto were exhausting, and with his sleeping problems the boy truly needed every hour he could get.

But even so he didn't think he could go to sleep, if he hadn't looked in on his charge.

John opened the wooden door as quiet as possible and sneaked through the dark room to the bed.

There he looked at the sleeping child. Normally Yassen's sleep was light and troubled. Every slightest sound, even the mere presence of another human being caused him to wake up with a violent reaction, courtesy of Dr. Three.

He had to be beyond exhausted to sleep this deep, even if it seemed to be restless slumber. It was clenched John's heart that the only deep sleep the child had gotten in a while had to be haunted by the same horrors that lingered in his eyes when he was awake.

He trashed around drenched in sweat that appeared sickly on his pale skin. A slight moaning came from his throat. Whatever nightmare had its teeth brutally driven in his mind had to be terrible.

John didn't even want to imagine the horrors that awaited the child when he closed his eyes.

Suddenly the trashing grew more violent and Yassen began to speak slurred words, his hoarse voice pleading. At first John didn't understand a single word, but when he listened more closely he recognised the desperate plea. "_Mama, pamagi mne paschalusta_!" {Mother. Please help me!}

The sick feeling that had been growing inside his stomach ever since he saw Yassen for the second time doubled. He had suspected that there was more behind the boy's family. There had to be something wrong with them. After all what kind of father left his child to be tortured?

The soon to be father was horrified. He couldn't resist the urge to run his fingers through Yassen's hair in a soothing motion. "It's alright..." he began to whisper, but as soon as his hand touched the blond head, Yassen cast up his eyes that were unnatural glazed and frightened. He began to lash out in a desperate attempt to get away, to defend himself against his brutal attacker.

With a weary sigh, John held his hands up and tried to calm the panicked youth. "It's alright, Yassen. It's alright. You're safe. _Wsö choroscho, ti w besopasnosti._ {I'm sorry. You are safe.}"

The familiar sound of his mother language seemed to snap Yassen out of his nightmare.

He blinked and then the usually stoic child slowly lifted his head and looked directly in John's eyes. This time he seemed to really see _him_.

It wasn't the strong and wilful genius that sat there, but a frightened and traumatized child. The nightmare seemed to have ripped Yassen of all his masks, of his carefully constructed defences.

The sight of the shivering and frail body, the scared eyes that showed all the horrors that this strong child had witnessed brought tears to the eyes of the soldier.

It frightened him how easy it was again and again to forget how young and vulnerable Yassen really was. Even after witnessing the after effects of Three's torture hadn't let him realize the true damage that had been done.

"Yassen," John spoke softly, careful not to disturb the youth further. He was unable to put his conflicted emotions in words. He didn't know how to deal with this. He had learned to kill people, not to deal with traumatized children. Hell, there was a reason why he hadn't studied psychology. He had wanted to protect his country, protect children like this, and not patch them together after they had completely fallen apart because nobody had been there to protect them. Suddenly he realized how naive he had been to think in these categories.

His name seemed to break a barrier inside Yassen. Crystalline tears rolled down his cheeks. He broke down sobbing and clenched his fingers tightly in the white sheets of his bed.

John swallowed. He felt useless und helpless. The sight of this complete breakdown of a child whose strength and determination he had come to admire troubled him deeply. He didn't know how to comfort him. What use were empty words of comfort? _Everything will be alright! Nobody will hurt you anymore! _What use were these words, when the both of them knew how far they were from the truth? He was a soldier. He just wasn't good with the whole emotional part.

Anxiously he placed his hand slowly next to Yassen's, careful not to touch him, since he remembered his earlier reaction to being touched clearly, but close enough to let him see his silent offer.

Suddenly he felt a small hand clasping his with a desperation he couldn't fathom. It was hard to resist the impulse to look at his companion, but he didn't want to disturb this fragile moment of trust.

They sat together in the dark, the silence only interrupted by Yassen's sobbing and the agitated breathing of the two of them.

John didn't know how long he sat like this, a silent protector that kept the nightmares away, when Yassen's breathing evened out and a voice weak and hoarse from crying whispered: "You speak Russian?"

John smiled softly and pulled the still shivering child gently to him until his head rested at his chest and he could hug the frail body that stiffened, but finally began to relax slowly, when John began to speak: "My mother had Russian origins. She used to hold me like this, when I was a child and couldn't sleep because of a nightmare. Then she always told me a fairy tale in Russian until I was asleep again. That was her personal memorial to her father Gregor. He was a scientist who came to England to work with my grandmother. They fell in love and married shortly after."

"What... What happened to them?" asked a hesitant voice. "They died before I was born. My mother wanted to name me Gregor in honour to her father, but my father convinced her that John would be a better idea. But that didn't stop her from calling me Gregor from time to time as a nickname."

A long silence followed his statement. Yassen seemed to be holding his breath. "Then... your name is John?" John smiled. "Yes. Hello Yassen. My name is John Rider. But you should continue to call him Hunter." Astonishment lit the ice blue eyes and bestowed them a childlike joy that he had never seen in them before. The ever-present distrust and suspicion were still there, but it seemed that somehow something had changed between the two of them. "Hello John. My name is Yassen Alexandrovich Kasakow." Then he winced. "But I don't like my name. Call me Yassen and forget the rest. As soon as I can I'll change my name."

The soldier scrutinized the child in his arms, honest curiosity in his gaze. "Why?" Yassen bit his lip and looked hesitant up in his eyes. Then he seemed to come to a decision and answered: "Because of my father. I don't want to share a name with him." His voice grew flat and a strange glint entered his gaze that disturbed John. He didn't know what to make of this, didn't know if this strange outspokenness between them would last. He didn't dare to voice a question.

"You won't tell them about this, will you?" asked Yassen quietly. John didn't need to ask who _them_ where. The fear in the pale blue eyes spoke volumes. John didn't want to know what Three would do should he ever learn of this incident.

"No," he assured his charge firmly. "I won't tell them anything about today. And you should do the same. It wouldn't look good, if they learned that I lost my objectivity with you. They know that I will become a father soon and I don't want them to charge another one with looking after you."

"Are you sure that they don't have eyes or ears in here?" Yassen looked around with a fearful expression in his unguarded face. It was just so out of character, but then again this whole night had been rather unusual. "You tell me that. Are these rooms bugged?" John couldn't help it. He grinned brightly at Yassen's sour expression. "Don't worry, Yassen. I think the classes for bug detecting are next week. But you don't have to worry. There is no single camera or listening device in here. I already checked it. They may want to monitor you every single moment of your training, but even the paranoid Three has better things to do then watching you when you sleep."

At the mention of Three Yassen's face grew serious, and John couldn't help but remember the sight of a scrawny child clad in rags whose body was a battlefield of scars, a child he had retrieved out of Three's private torture chambers. Yassen's halting report of the things that this monster had done haunted him.

"Stop it!" his charge suddenly cried and what he said then surprised John more than anything else:

"You really feel sorry for me, right? I know fury, when I see it. My father was always furious with me. What Three did to me really upsets you," he said in wonder, as if he couldn't believe it. "Either you are a really good actor or you are honest... I don't know what scares me more... but I think you are honest. Maybe it's because you are nothing like them... But whatever it is, stop pitying me! I'll survive this and I'll be strong, when it's over. Stronger than Three and stronger than my father!"

The unconcealed hatred in his child's voice shocked John just as much as the sudden darkness in his eyes. Suddenly he couldn't help asking himself, if there even was hope was this broken child. After everything that he had experienced how could he ever fit in a normal society?

He coughed unsure how to respond. . "Well, anyway if you want, I can show you some tricks for bug detection in the morning."

As soon as she had come, the darkness vanished and brightness took her place. "Really?"

"Yes, Yassen. Really! Now would you like to hear a fairy tale?" John asked suddenly, shocking even himself.

"I'm not a child!" scoffed the child.

"Maybe you are not. But I would like to tell one. Would you do me this favour? After all I have to practice. My wife would kill me, if I scarred my child to death with my terrible storytelling."

John wasn't sure what had possessed him to even think let alone asked it, but now that he had declared it, he realized that he really wanted to do this, as crazy as it sounded.

"Well, if you really want to..." responded his charge uncertainly.

"Yes, I want to. _Schil-bil__… {_Once upon a time…}"

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><p><strong>I guess you already know how much I appreciate reviews. ;-) I'm really interested in your thoughts, critism...<strong>


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